Never The Same
by Philathropy
Summary: Set in World War II, Northern and Southern Italy are caught on the loosing side of a major battle. Romano must make a rough decision on the field that will rattle Veneziano to his core. Why wasn't Germany there to save them? AU for modified history
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Just a heads up, Germany won't show up until chapter 3  
**

"Just leave me and save yourself, Romano!"

"No, you fucking idiot! Either we both get out of this or neither of us does!"

They hadn't lied when they said war was hell. The very earth seemed to bleed. This place, even though it was all but impossible to imagine so now, had once been a pristine, beautiful, unspoiled field. Now… Now it was hell on earth. A wasteland. As far as the eye could see, which admittedly wasn't very far in this weather, was nothing but desolate wasteland broken only by fresh corpses of brave soldiers from both sides, and the occasional tank. The ground was a strange, otherworldly mixture of blood and mud and rainwater and gunpowder and sharp, jagged shards of metal and god only knows what else. Gunfire from every conceivable direction and distance drowned out even the pouring rain. Even right next to his brother, Lovino had to yell himself hoarse to be heard.

God, his brother…

Feliciano's arm had been crushed and pinned underneath an unidentifiable, mangled shred of metal. The kind of sight that would stick in one's memory for ages from just a simple glimpse. The brothers had been caught from behind by a blast of undeterminable origin, and when Lovino had pulled his frame from the accursed mud, his brother Feliciano had been unable to follow. Lovino had a sinking feeling it was from one of his own tanks. Something meant to protect his idiot brother, not hurt him! And now Feli was going to loose that arm, and probably his life too if Lovino didn't do something about it fast!

Not that Lovino cared about Feliciano. At all. No, this was for his own sake. If he didn't take cover soon, and by soon he meant in the next ten seconds, he was going to get shot, or blown up, or some enemy soldier was going to find him. God, he didn't even remember who they were fighting anymore! They were _both_ going to get shot, and Lovino was not prepared to die just because his stupid brother got his fucking arm caught under some stupid fucking piece of tank. Not over that whiny little loser, that fucking moron who couldn't even manage to get out of the way in time.

At least, that's what Lovino told himself. It was getting harder and harder to think of Feliciano as a useless coward with him laying pinned to the ground, clearly in immense pain and facing certain death, telling his brother to go on without him.

"Romano, just run!" Feliciano's voice cracked and wavered. It almost would have been easier if his voice sounded weak, or if he looked close to unconsciousness. If his eyes looked glazed… but no, the idiot was completely aware. The wound was nowhere near mortal, just painful. And god damn it all, Feliciano was hanging in there. "Romano, what are you doing just standing there? RUN!"

Oh god damnit, that was unfair. That was cheating. Lovino didn't even need eyes to tell that Feli was crying. The fucking idiot was in tears! Feliciano was scared, and Lovino just knew, felt in the very core of his being, by the small thread that connected them as brothers, as Italy, that Feli wasn't scared for himself. Feliciano, bless his soul… He wasn't focused on his own pain. On the shattered bones and god knows what else was wrong or wounded or probably burned under that sheet of metal. He was scared… scared for Lovino.

In that moment, that shared heartbeat between them, Lovino knew he would never be able to forgive himself if he left his brother behind. It was both of them, or neither of them. The battle was lost, but god dammit that didn't mean that Romano had to lose his brother! N-not that he cared.

Lovino would have to cut off Feliciano's arm to save them both.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: warning! Graphic violence ahead!**

**DISCLAIMER: If I owned Axis Powers Hetalia, or any of the characters, this would be cannon. Aren't you glad I don't?**

Lovino knelt at his brother's side and leaned in close so he wouldn't have to yell. He didn't want to yell this.

"Brother, I'm going to have to cut your arm off. It's the only way, so don't be a baby about it!" Lovino didn't wait for a response. There simply wasn't the time to argue with whiny little Feli about it. Lovino reached back to grab his blade and…

"Merda! Affanculo!" Lovino swore loudly. He had lost his blade! It had been in its place before the blast, but it must have fallen out! There wasn't time to look for it. With every second that passed, they both came closer to a very sticky, uncertain end, and Lovino was not about to start contemplating what happens when a nation dies. "Hang on brother, I'll…"

"Romano, L-lovino! Please, just save yourself!"

Lovino flinched. Feliciano was cheating, using his human name at a time like this…

"I'm not leaving without you, idiot!" Lovino searched the mud and debris around them, desperately looking for something, anything sharp. This was going to hurt them both, but Lovino liked to think it would hurt him more than it would hurt Feliciano.

Relief came in the form of a jagged shard of half-melted metal that had most likely fallen along with the piece that pinned Feli. Lovino snapped it up in an instant, and then leapt onto Feli to hold him down. To hold him steady. One knee pinned Feli's free right arm as Lovino sat on his brother's chest. He cleared away some of the mud and debris around the upper half of poor Feliciano's arm, preparing him for the gruesome task ahead.

Feliciano didn't resist him in the least. When he spoke, his voice was soft and trembling, just loud enough to be heard over the roar of war. "…Be fast about it, big brother…?"

Lovino blinked, and in that moment he remembered every moment of the centuries he had spent with Feliciano. Every little squabble, every hug, everything. It all flashed before his eyes and in an instant he relived his entire life up to this point, including the harsh words they had exchanged just a few hours ago, in the safety of the camp.

"A-as fast as I can, I promise Feliciano…" Lovino leaned in and gently kissed his little brother's forehead.

H-he only did that to keep Feliciano calm! It's not like Lovino was afraid for his little brother. No, the stupid idiot got himself stuck like this, so by god he deserved to lose an arm for it. It was the way of war, and maybe this would teach the fucking idiot to be a better soldier! Lovino placed his right hand firmly on Feliciano's left shoulder, repositioned the impromptu blade in his left hand, took a deep, steadying breath, and began.

Lovino hesitated at the last moment.

His first slash did practically nothing. The shrapnel tore through Feliciano's uniform and barely left a scrape on the pale skin underneath.

Lovino gritted his teeth, took another steadying breath, and hacked at his brother's arm again. The cut wasn't clean, but it would do. Blood pulsed out of the gaping tear of a wound, chunks of flesh barely clinging to the body they once belonged to.

Feliciano was suddenly himself again. The brave face gone, he struggled, flailed, under his older brother, screaming for dear life. "I've changed my mind! I-it hurts so much, brother stop! No please I'd rather be dead than this, LOVINO, STOP! **AUGH!" **He devolved into pure, terrified shrieks of unimaginable pain.

Lovino struggled to convince himself that Feliciano was just being a coward. A weakling. A-after all, any good soldier could… s-should… No. No, his screams were perfectly justified. Lovino re-adjusted his grip on the blade. "Shh, easy, it will be over soon… just try to pass out, Feli…"

His shoulders, no his whole back tensed as he threw his weight into the next few strikes, tearing away more and more of his brother's arm. Lovino held back the bile rising in his throat as blood sprayed all over them both and small chunks of his brother's skin fell to the mud. Lovino continued the grim task like a machine, pushing back the waves of nausea. He tried and failed not to think of the 'hug therapy' his silly little brother had always insisted on. Not to think of being held in the thin yet deceptively strong arms that he was now destroying.

Lovino shut off, blocking out the sounds of his poor little brother howling in pain. He kept his eyes on the task at hand, ignoring Feliciano's face. Ignoring how his brother's body convulsed underneath him.

The world went quiet for Lovino. For a blissful few moments, he forgot what the task he was working on meant. He didn't notice the world around him, and he simply had one repetitive motion to do. He watched his work carefully and he efficiently shredded the delicate skin and muscle beneath him. He was starting to think he could get through this, until…

CKHRI-i-i-INKK!

His blood ran cold, and it was everything Lovino could do to keep himself from vomiting on the spot. That sound… that sound was the now dull metal scraping against Feliciano's bone. Suddenly the entire world roared back to life. His brother's screams took on a higher, more desperate pitch.

"**LUDWIG! DOITSU!"**

T-that's right… weren't there supposed to be German reinforcements a few hours ago? Where was Ludwig? Shouldn't he be here helping Veneziano?

In any case, Lovino took a small amount of solace in the fact that Feliciano's eyes looked glazed over. That meant he was close to unconsciousness. That meant that he probably wouldn't remember what had to come next. Lovino said a silent prayer that he could be as blessed.

Lovino licked his lips instinctually, to try and prepare himself for breaking Feliciano's bone. It had the opposite effect – he had tasted his brother's blood on his lips. Feliciano's blood was on his face. Hell, it was everywhere! Lovino shook his head to clear his mind, took a deep breath, and…

Hesitated.

Now that his mouth was open, words tumbled out. Lovino truly didn't know if he was trying to comfort himself or his brother. And… that certainly had to be rain running down his cheeks, because by god Romano was not the type to cry at a time like this. That was Veneziano's job.

"Yeah, that's right, we'll get you back to Germany as soon as this is over. It will be all nice and clean and warm and dry…"

He gripped the shrapnel hard enough to cut his own hand open, placing it squarely over what looked like the weakest section of bone.

"W-why I'm sure your arm will grow right back overnight! You're a nation, it's possible…"

The rain poured down harder and faster, making the tiny brunette quiver with cold.

"W-we'll have some really good pasta…"

Feliciano's screams were growing weaker.

"God, I'm so sorry brother…!"

Romano squeezed his eyes shut and threw his entire weight into the task.

A world-shattering crack echoed through Romano's ears, immediately followed by a mercifully clean sounding slice. The resistance under his hand dissipated immediately. Feliciano's screams stopped altogether.

…

It was all over the headlines the next week. In a landslide string of stunning military victories, England had claimed over a third of Italy for the allies.


	3. Chapter 3

Ludwig read over the note from his boss yet again. Looked over the troop movements yet again. It made sense, on a strategic level, to cut their losses with Italy. It just… didn't sit right with him. Italy was one of his first friends. One of his only friends.

But, orders were orders. As much as Ludwig didn't particularly like his boss, he still had to follow orders.

Maybe Feliciano would surprise him. Maybe the kid would man up when he had to. He _was_ the grandchild of Rome.

But then again, he was also Feliciano.

Interrupting the pleasant, quiet morning came the harsh, shrill ring of Ludwig's phone. It wasn't the line his boss called him on, but the one specially designated for nations to contact each other with.

"Hello?" Ludwig was sharp and to the point. "This is Germany."

"FUCK YOU POTATO EATER!"

"Hello Romano." Ludwig sighed tolerantly and held the phone a few inches from his ear.

The traditional stream of profanities and rudeness streamed out of the other line. Really, this was completely normal for Veneziano's brother. Ludwig sighed heavily and continued reading the documents on his desk, waiting for the profanity to stop.

It took Ludwig a minute to realize that the tone of voice on the other line had changed. Was… was Romano… crying? Ludwig's blood turned to ice in his veins and he snapped the phone back to his ear.

"Romano, what happened? What's wrong? Where is Veneziano?" It suddenly hit Ludwig full force how unusual it was for Romano to call first of the two.

"Y-you were s-supposed to come! You were supposed to send reinforcements, you bastard! This is YOUR FAULT!" Romano sobbed into the phone. "Y-your fucking fault! A-and now Feli is… F-feli…"

The plastic receiver cracked under Ludwig's grip. "…Romano… Please don't tell me… H-he can't be…"

"You fucking idiot, he's not dead!" Romano snapped. "Although he might have been if I wasn't there! You were supposed to come and help! You were supposed to back us up, and you didn't! And now Veneziano is hurt!" Romano returned to yelling, but his voice was cracked and wavering. "He's in the hospital because of YOU! You're a fucking coward, potato-eater! You should be ashamed of yourself!"

"Romano, please. I need you to calm down and tell me what happened. You can be as angry as you want once I know what's going on." Ludwig's mind was racing. The reports weren't out of his boss' hands. He hadn't seen them yet. What had happened?

"We lost, idiot. We didn't have enough men because we were counting on yours, and the English fucking plowed through us!" Romano calmed himself down just enough to stop screaming.

"Where are you calling from? How long ago did the battle end? Romano, where is Veneziano?"

"I'm calling from the hospital, Feli is in the other room, and we got here ten hours ago." He snipped. "And before you fucking ask, since I'm feeling nice I'll tell you how Feli's hurt. He's missing a fucking arm."

Ludwig's breath caught in his throat. Romano kept talking, but Ludwig wasn't listening. He sunk back into his chair and set the phone down in his lap.

The building could have fallen down around him and Ludwig wouldn't have noticed. His mind was so busy it was blank, not pausing on any one thought long enough to leave anything behind. What could have been centuries later, but was probably a few minutes, Ludwig's mind organized itself just enough to form coherent words and ideas.

Italy. He had… he had hurt Italy. He had _abandoned _Italy! Abandoned his best friend, and now Italy had… had lost an arm in war. Ludwig could _not_ picture Italy that way. It was physically impossible. It would be like imagining him mute! Ludwig's heart ached, felt like a knife he didn't know was stabbing him before this suddenly twisted, when he realized Italy _would_ be practically mute, considering the way he always gestured when he spoke.

Ludwig picked the phone back up. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

…

**A note on names:**

**I realize that my names have been particularly confusing this chapter, so I thought I'd take a moment here to explain. The name I use for a character depends heavily on whose point of view I am writing from. In the case of the Italy brothers, who each have three acceptable names (North Italy = Veneziano = Feliciano, and South Italy = Romano = Lovino) most nations will refer to them by Veneziano and Romano. Using North and South Italy is extremely formal. Using Feliciano and Lovino expresses an almost intimate level of familiarity. In the cases of most other nations who have a human name and a nation name, the nation name is used with the human name expressing an intimate connection.**


	4. Chapter 4

After two tense, long weeks, Veneziano woke up.

Did he wake up to Germany at his side, where he had stationed himself for almost every hour of the day?

No, that would have been too easy.

Did he wake up to Romano pacing the length of the room anxiously? Or even during those few rare hours when Germany had gone off to do some business when in a moment of exhaustion and vulnerability, Romano had climbed onto the bed beside Veneziano, curled up and napped?

No, of course not.

Veneziano woke up cold and alone to the sounds of angry shouting just outside of his room.

"You fool!" There wasn't a moment of doubt over who owned that voice. Germany was here. "Do you really think I have any control over what my boss is doing? Do you think I _wanted_ to leave you two alone? I don't call the shots, the Führer does!"

"In that case why the fuck didn't you contact us about it!" Yep, that was Romano. The sheer volume was enough to tell by. "One letter, a phone call! It wouldn't have fucking taken much, and you could have warned us that we'd be fighting alone out there!"

Veneziano was very lost for a few (blissful) moments. What on earth were they arguing about?

"_Hang on brother, I'll…"_

"_Romano, L-lovino! Please, just save yourself!"_

T-that's right… His arm…

Veneziano looked to his left, where his arm should have been. Instead, he was greeted with the sight of bandages covering what was left of his arm.

A wave of nausea accompanied the memories.

_He hadn't known that pain this bad could exist. Lightningbolts of pain coursed over his entire body each time a raindrop hit the open wound, and his mind went white, blank, with pain whenever the shard of shrapnel Romano was using as a knife hit him. He couldn't locate the pain during those times. Everything hurt. His SOUL hurt._

_But…_

_But worse than the pain. Worse than the feeling of his arm slowly shredding apart. Worse than the fact that the pain of an arm shattered in twelve places was being constantly overshadowed by the gaping, bleeding wound… worse than all that was the look on Romano's face._

_As Veneziano had howled in agony, done everything in his weak frame's power to get away, even though he had no 'away' to get to… Romano had… R-romano…_

_Romano's eyes had gone blank. Like he was BLIND. As if… as if Romano's soul had left his body. The connection that had always stood unspoken yet constant between them… it faded away._

_And then Romano sliced through the last of the major nerves. Veneziano could no longer feel his arm, and the slices weren't that bad anymore._

_Just when he thought he could get through this, something deeper flared up. Not physical pain, but the soul-deep agony of Italy. The pain of thousands of lives flickering out. Of Italian land coming under English control. The pain of mothers and fathers receiving the telegram that told them their babies were lost to the gears of war. The pain of lovers left behind, of children who would never know their father, of heroes being made. Of martyrs._

_That was when the screaming had begun in earnest. That was when the tears stopped._

_Somehow, through all that… Veneziano thought of Germany. Of what Germany had to be going through, that would keep him from saving him…_

"_**LUDWIG! DOITSU!"**_

Veneziano blinked. He was back in the cold, white hospital room again. Germany and Romano were still arguing outside, although they hadn't progressed very far yet. Still stuck between Germany insisting that he was following orders and Romano demanding explanations…

"L-lovino? Ludwig?" Veneziano's voice sounded strange to him. Hoarse and dry and a little more high-pitched than he intended. "What day is it?"

**AN: Update schedule.**

**I should have a new chapter for you guys at least once a week. Will update on Mondays. Let me just thank everyone for the supportive (tearstained) reviews~! Seriously, you guys are awesome. 33**


	5. Chapter 5

With that, the argument was over. No, Ludwig did not care if Romano was in the dead middle of a sentence. The second that fragile Italian voice, the delicate of the two brothers, called out from the other room, the argument was over. Ludwig spun on his heel and outright ran into the hospital room as if Feliciano would spontaneously combust if Ludwig did not lay eyes on him RIGHT NOW.

"Feliciano, thank Gott you're awake!" cold relief flooded through Ludwig. Feliciano, his Feliciano, was conscious! Ludwig sank to his knees at Feliciano's bedside. His first instinct was to reach out and take Feli's hand, but… Er, well, Ludwig was on the left side of the bed. His heart sank just a little for poor little Italy, who sat up a little to get a better look at Ludwig.

"Fratello! H-hey, don't try and sit up, idiot!" Romano walked past Ludwig (shooting him a poisonous glare that said 'touch my brother and I will end you') and very gently pushed Feliciano's shoulders back into the bed.

"Ve~" Feli knit his eyebrows and whined a bit. He must have been in pain, touching could not be helping this, can't you see, Romano? "Fratello, what day is it?" Feliciano insisted, apparently determined to get an answer for how long he had been out.

"You have been unconscious for two weeks, a day, and seven hours." Ludwig answered for Romano. 'Fourty-eight minutes and twelve seconds' he added, in his head. A tense silence fell over the room as Feliciano processed the information and the two who had suffered through every minute of that time briefly relived it. Hell, Ludwig knew the exact time difference between the end of the battle and the time of the phonecall. (Four hours, ten minutes of blissful ignorance)

"O-oh." Feliciano's soft voice broke the silence. He looked between Ludwig and Romano. "Ve, that's a lot of time…" Feli brushed some stray hair out of his eyes with his existing hand. He fell silent again, seemingly lost in thought. The silence returned.

Something felt wrong to Ludwig. Yes, he had seen Feliciano hurt before. They had suffered through trench warfare together in World War I, after all. Yet, in Ludwig's memory, Feliciano was always the quickest to bounce back from an injury. Yet, the Feliciano he saw in front of him was… sedate. Admittedly, Ludwig had never seen Feliciano lose a limb… perhaps… perhaps Feliciano would just take a few days to come to terms with this. Yes, that's right. No need to worry just yet, Ludwig reasoned. He had lost a great deal of territory; it would be reasonable for Feliciano to be distressed.

"You've lost a good deal of territory. The Po River is your new northern border." Ludwig felt that Feliciano needed to know the extent of his nation's loss. Romano responded to this by shooting Ludwig another venomous look.

"Shut your mouth, potato-bastard! He lost his arm, I think my fratello is fucking smart enough to connect those dots. Not like you have any right to comment, you abandoned us!" Romano was about two seconds from jumping over the bed, Feliciano and all, to tear Ludwig apart.

Ludwig was losing his patience with the southern Italian.

"If I've told you once, I have told you a thousand times! I was obeying orders like a good soldier! I have absolutely no control over the military strategies that my leader uses!"

"D-don't fight, guys!" Feliciano, bless him, was trying his best to be a peacekeeper. As it was, the hospital bed was starting to turn into a no-man's land, and a miniature war was brewing. "No yelling~!"

"I'm starting to suspect that you're just as much of a jackass as your boss! You –knew- we needed you, and now because of you and your boss, my fratello is injured! People –died-! Both of our peoples!" Romano's voice rose a bit with each world, until he was screaming at Ludwig.

Ludwig had enough. He had been sleep-deprived for a bit too long, worried and tense a bit too much, and a little too far away from home to handle any more of this Italian bullshit. He stood up, clenching his fists at his side, trying to resist punching Romano in the face.

"Perhaps if you two weren't so weak and useless, you would not need my constant babysitting and could handle a single battle on your own!" He snapped, as close to yelling as the reserved nation could get.

With that, he left.

And Feliciano started crying.

**AN: Sorry for the huge delay! Life caught up to me. Long story short, there was a hospital visit and more than a few worried friends involved. BUT! No worries, I am back and better than ever! Hope you guys enjoy this chapter!**


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